Contraband

19

Stone arrived at La Goulue simultaneously with Roberta Calder. Kissy, kissy. They were seated.

“Have you been here before?” she asked.

“A lot, before they closed down for a long time, then reopened here.”

They each ordered the steak frites, which was a favorite from the old menu.

“I come here a lot,” Robbie said. “My house is just around the corner.”

“House, not apartment?”

“Vance gave me a big check, and I spent most of it on a rundown townhouse and fixing it up. Now I have a workshop in my basement, a duplex above for me, and three rental apartments on top. Gives me a nice little income.”

“What happens in the workshop?”

“I design clothing for men and women, then my tailors and seamstresses run it up. That’s why I can make you a Doug Hayward suit, if you need one.”

“Right now, between Vance’s wardrobe and mine, I’m up to my ass in Doug Hayward clothes.”

“I’m just saying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Their food arrived, and they talked around bites.

When they were on coffee, Robbie spoke up. “Listen, I’ve done a little research on you, and—”

“What kind of research?” Stone asked warily.

“Career, etcetera.”

“I thought I gave you all of that last night.”

“Listen, do you do business with people you know nothing — all right, next to nothing — about?”

“I suppose not. What did you learn?”

“It appears that you are good at solving problems that are, shall we say, outside the range of normal attorneys.”

“You think I’m an abnormal attorney?”

“I’m sorry, I should have said better than run-of-the-mill attorneys.”

“I like that better. What problem do you have?”

“A husband.”

“Thank you for mentioning that before I tried to get you in the sack.”

“If you wanted to get me in the sack, why would my husband be a problem?”

“They get angry when their wives sleep around. Some of them hold grudges and own firearms and other deadly weapons.”

“No moral qualms, then, just self-defense?”

“I make it a rule not to commit adultery — on purpose.”

“But accidentally is okay? What’s accidental adultery?”

“When she doesn’t tell me she has a husband.”

“So now I’m off-limits?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What if I haven’t slept in the same bed with my husband for the past two years?”

“Does he sleep in the next bed?”

“No, he sleeps at another address.”

“Is the address one of your rental apartments?”

“No.”

“Then we’re making progress here. It would be very helpful if he sleeps in another city — even more so, in another country.”

“He has his own apartment in New York.”

“That qualifies, under certain conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“Does he have a key to your apartment?”

“Well, yes. That’s part of the problem.”

“I should think so. He might decide to visit you at an inopportune moment.”

“That’s where you come in,” she said.

“No, that’s where he comes in. That’s why I’m not going to be there when he does.”

“You misunderstand. The advice I seek from you is... How do I get rid of him?”

“When did you buy the townhouse, in relation to your wedding date?”

“Long before.”

“Do you have any other substantial property that is marital in nature? That is, that you acquired together after you were married?”

“A few wedding gifts,” she said. “China, silverware, like that.”

“Do you have a joint bank account or brokerage account?”

“No.”

“Is he richer than you?”

“Sometimes. It depends on how he’s doing at the track.”

“How’s he doing right now?”

“Probably pretty well, since he isn’t asking me for money.”

“Okay, here’s what you do: you go home, pack up anything he might want to claim as his, then call a moving company and have everything sent to a storage unit. Then you call a locksmith and have every lock in your apartment changed, then send him the key for the storage locker, along with a letter informing him that you are divorcing him, that he is unwelcome at your home or workshop, and that you will neither give nor loan him any further funds. Then, on the same day, you file for divorce and have him served. Oh, and you change your will, if you have one, specifically excluding him.”

“And you think that’s the end of the problem?”

“Not necessarily, but it’s the beginning of the end. Is he a violent person?”

“Sometimes.”

“Has he behaved violently toward you in the past?”

“Yes.”

“Then, simultaneously with filing for divorce, you get a temporary restraining order, known briefly as a TRO, requiring him not to approach you within the distance of a city block. Then if he does so, I’ll see that he goes to jail.”

“What if he takes exception to these actions and kills me?”

“Then you won’t need a divorce.”

Robbie rolled her eyes. “That’s very helpful.”

“I, however, will do everything in my power to see that, if he kills you, he never draws a free breath again, so you’ll have your revenge.”

“Yes, but a little late.”

“You have a point. If you’re worried about physical violence, I can arrange to have a couple of people spend a lot of time with you. They can dissuade him from violating the TRO.”

“Are we talking thugs?”

“We are talking licensed security agents, employed by the second-largest security company in the world.”

“So, they’re legal thugs?”

“Certainly not. Tell me, does your soon-to-be ex-husband ever carry firearms or sharp instruments, legally or illegally?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

“Then that might require a degree of thuggishness, depending on the threat at hand.”

“If I follow your advice and do all these things, will I have to wait until I’m divorced before you consider me not to be adultery bait?”

“What a quaint way to put it! The answer is, if you initiate those steps, that instantly frees you from that condition.”

“All right, I’ll take your advice,” she said. “Does that mean I can take you home with me after lunch and have my way with you?”

“Only when the steps I have outlined are completed. I think I can have your way cleared by this time tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, “get started, and I’ll try to contain myself until then.”

“Oh, good,” he replied, and they clinked cups.